


The Most Wonderful Time of Year

by distractionpie



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cheese, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Mall Santa - Freeform, Mariah Carey Hate, Santa's Elves, Shopping Malls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-02 04:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8651515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distractionpie/pseuds/distractionpie
Summary: In which Joe Toye is Santa's grumpiest elf and George Luz doesn't steal children (probably). Seasonal work may or may not be the worst.





	1. November 25th

**Author's Note:**

> *Hands up* this is nothing but barely plotted holiday cheese. I felt like trying for some christmas fic and my muse provided the though of Toye and Guarnere: Mall Elves ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯.

Bill is wearing a tinsel crown and Joe needs a new best friend.

Admittedly they're both dressed like idiots - there's no good to be found in badly fitted red and green coats, striped trousers and fake ears, but Bill could at least have the decency to accept the bare minimum of suffering instead of embracing and adding to it.

Bill also seems amused by Joe's misery.

"Smile!" he declares, "We're supposed to be making this the happiest place on earth."

"It's the Riverside mall not fu-" Joe catches himself, "-Freaking Disneyworld." He might hate this job, but he also doesn't want to be fired on his first damn day.

A job over the holiday period is, in principal, a good idea. There's a lot of seasonal recruitment from people willing to schedule around the needs of college students in order to get cheap temporary staff, and it should mean enough extra cash that he can buy all the gifts he needs to get and have enough left over to put into his savings so that he doesn't wind up broke immediately after graduation. In reality, Joe isn't cut out for retail work - he can't fake cheery and helpful to strangers for the length of an interview never mind a whole shift just for the promise of minimum wage - and he had received polite but pointed 'no's from the first dozen places he'd applied. Then Bill has mentioned having an uncle who worked in mall management who'd mentioned a recruiting shortfall and could put in a good word for them. If there was one thing that Bill could always be relied upon for it was having a relative with connections to every major organisation in the goddamn city. Joe had figured the offer was for custodial work and by the time he'd realised that they were actually looking for people to work in 'Santa's grotto' he'd also seen they were offering ten bucks an hour plus overtime. For that he could put in just enough effort to not get fired, especially if Bill was suffering alongside him to make it bearable.

Unfortunately, he'd underestimated the depths of Bill's Christmas cheer and willingness to be an unbearable nuisance.

So now, despite the fact it's still November, Joe is stuck in this stupid outfit listening to shrieking kids go on about the long, long lists of things they want from Santa while their dead-eyed parents complain about the line. And instead of telling them to either suck it up or leave, Joe has to wish them a happy holidays and assure them that they'll be with Santa soon.

It's a lie. The line to the door of the 'grotto' is about forty-five minutes long, and then there's another ten minutes of queuing with extra tacky decor and before the kids get two minutes tops with the big man himself, a gift that's not worth even half the price of admission, and hurried photo they'll have to pay an extra fifteen bucks to keep a copy of.

The whole thing is madness and Joe doesn't know why anybody would pay to involve themselves in the process.

*

Three hours into the shift Bill and Joe have devised a game to while away the period between answering harried demands to know ‘how much longer?’ and ‘can we leave the line to take the kids to the bathroom and come back to the same place’ as well as reminding people that cutting in line will put them on the naughty list. They're supposed to 'engage with the clients' and so Bill and Joe have started guessing the life stories of various members of the crowd and then going over to slip a few extra questions in with the corporate approved ones about what they're doing seeing Santa - whoever's theory is the closest gets a dollar and Joe is nearly ten bucks up. He’s got a knack for spotting the ones who are on their second or third failing marriage whereas Bill is determined to imagine that every family is straight out of a holiday special - even when the kids are fighting and the parents are ignoring each other he just deems them ‘in need of a little more Christmas spirit’.

Their current subject is a short guy who's caught their eye because he had hair like he'd just stepped out of a windstorm despite the fact it was a calm day outside. He looks around Joe's age but there's a toddler on his hip, so Joe is guessing that he knocked up his high school girlfriend but they broke up and the guy is now probably stuck in a dead end job and blowing a stupid percentage of his wages on trying to buy the kid's affection.

He explains his theory to Bill, but Bill shakes his head. "Nah, see that other kid by them, the pre-teen glued to the phone? Got the same look as them - my bet is on siblings."

Joe hadn't noticed the other kid, but shit, Bill probably has this one. The trio all do look alike with tan skin, dark hair and similar features, and there’s no way the guy and the older kid could be father and son, not even if the guy was older than he looked and started getting busy very young. Bill might have just broke his losing streak. Still… the rules say they have to confirm and its Joe's turn so he makes his way over to them.

“Are you excited about your visit to Santa’s grotto?” Joe says, using his best cheery customer service voice. He’s pretty proud of it – it almost sounds like he gives a shit which is an impressive illusion.

“Nah, I just really like standing in line,” the guy answers with such sincere seeming enthusiasm that it takes a moment for Joe to register it as a joke.

"Right..." Joe says flatly. "And how many of you are entering Santa's magical wonderland today?"

The guy lets out a burst of laughter so forceful that for a moment Joe is slightly afraid he might drop the kid he's holding. It's successfully caught the pre-teen's attention though. "Really... that's so cheesy," the kid whines, "C'mon George, can't I go to GameStop and meet you after?"

The guy, George, shakes his head. "You know mom will kill me if I let you wander off. You know when we set off what the plan was-"

“We go to see Santa!” the little kid cuts in. She squirms excitedly in George's grasp but doesn't get anywhere. It doesn't matter. George's use of the word mom indicated shared parents, which means it's Bill's point.

George looks like he's about to say something else but Joe cuts him off. "Riverside mall wishes you a happy holiday period," he says, despite own wish to point out that the holiday period doesn't start until next week. George opens his mouth like he's about to say something else but Joe just plasters on his best the customer is always stupid smile, waves, and heads back to let Bill know he's only nine bucks down now. Though Joe doubts it'll last.


	2. December 1st

After the grand opening there are a few days of relative calm at the mall, but soon enough its December 1st and the Christmas crowds are out in full force. Bill claims that now it's December Joe can't complain about people being excessively Christmas-y, but the truth is that Joe is done with it all already. For fuck's sake, Amazon is a thing that exists so why the hell would anybody subject themselves to mall scrums unless they just enjoy the awfulness of it all? Even the novelty of the guessing game that he and Bill were playing has worn off - there are only so many different sorts of people who would drag themselves to see a mall Santa and Joe and Bill had rapidly developed profiling skills that would have put a CBS crime drama to shame.

Joe and Bill have spent the last ten minutes mediating a dispute over cutting in line that had ended with mall security having to escort the three families involved not just from the line but from the building, so they're both 100% ready for their break when they're very nearly crashed into by a guy who is elbowing his way through the crowd - the elbowing isn't anything new, but the fact the he's trying to get out of the line not ahead in it is. "Oh shit, sorry, shit," he says, putting space between them. The arm he's not using to plough through the crowd is gripping a young kid firmly by the shoulder. He looks vaguely familiar, like he's been running his hands through his hair which would certainly match his somewhat frantic demeanour, as he adds, "Hey... Do you guys know where I'd need to go for a lost child announcement?"

"You'd need to go to customer services," Bill says, and instead of leaving it like that and pushing on towards the break-room, that sacred place of cheap coffee and lumpy couches, he says, "But that's at the other end of the mall. What does your missing kid look like, maybe we've seen him?"

"He looks like this one," the guy explains, pointing to the guilty looking child beside him.

Joe glances over at Bill. Bill is looking right back. Either the guy has snapped from holiday stress, or this is the lamest prank they've ever seen.

"He said he'd be right back," the kid whines. "It's not my fault."

Or possibly a whole family of crazy.

"The other side of the mall?" the guy says sounding frustrated, sidestepping them before either of them can point out that he appears to be holding the kid he's looking for and calling "Thanks," back over his shoulder. He then cusses under his breath, but Joe is pretty sure that's not directed at him as its followed by grumbling about people who are getting coal for Christmas as he tugs the kid with him away.

It's odd, but it's hardly the weirdest thing Joe has encountered in this job so he shrugs it off, nudging Bill into motion.

Their fifteen-minute break is a welcome respite from the discomfort of wearing plastic ears as they both reclaim their phones from their lockers and submerge themselves in something other than tinny Christmas music and tacky decorations. It's over too soon.

On the way back they interrupted again, this time by a reedy voice saying "Excuse me," beside them. Joe looks down to see a kid who looks identical to the one reported missing earlier expect for a green sweater instead of a blue one. He also looks way too watery around the eyes for Joe's comfort. "Um... I've lost my brothers," the kid says nervously. "Can you help me find them?"

Oh jeez. "One of your brothers look just like you, and the other one a guy about yea high?" Joe waves a hand a few inches lower than his own height. Twins – under any other circumstance he probably should have guessed that before crazy, but in fairness there’s a whole lot of crazy in the crowds he’s been dealing with.

"You've seen them?" the relief on the kid's face is obvious, "I've been looking for _ever_."

Joe rolls his eyes. "Well they went over to customer services looking for you."

"Okay, I'll go find them," the kid says, and Joe grabs him firmly by the collar before he can run off. The last thing he needs is the kid getting lost en route.

"Bill?" he says, holding the kid out hopefully. Bill likes children at least some of the time, surely he'll be happy to see this one returned to its rightful owner.

Bill shakes his head. "Nope, you caught it, it's yours. You take him to customer services, I'll explain to Moose why you're late back from break." He's smirking, the traitor. But Joe can hardly force the matter, and the last thing either of them needs is to end up with the blame for some dumb kid being allowed to run around unsupervised.

"Right, kid, I'm taking you to customer services via the staff corridors, c'mon," Joe says, and apparently nobody ever taught the kid about stranger danger because he follows without a hint of protest. It's probably the bloody costume's fault.

Once they get into the back corridors the kid apparently takes the drop in background noise as an invitation to chat. "I just wanted to go to the trading card swap shop, because Mark from my class said that he'd heard they were swapping shiny cards for regulars because it was Christmas."

Joe doesn't care. Also that's dumb. "Kid, anybody that's promising you a deal that good is either lying or trying to trick you into something."

"Yeah," the kid agrees with a sigh. It only earns Joe a few paces of silence before the kid is talking again though, "They didn't have any shinys at all. And then when I got back I couldn't find Jack or George and I thought maybe they'd left, and then I started to get scared," he explains, "George is going to kill me and I don't even mind because I was so lost."

Something about the name said in such a particularly sulky tone makes Joe remember where he'd seen the guy before. He'd been to the grotto once before, had won Bill a point in their guessing game, except for some reason he’d had a totally different pair of kids with him. Though Joe is pretty sure this kid is also too old to belong to that guy.

Cutting through the staff corridors is a much quicker way of getting to customer services, both because the route is less circuitous and because it avoids having to batter their way through the crowds, so it’s only a few minutes before they’re emerging through the back entrance of the security and services office.

Apparently the guy made good time pushing through the crowds because he's standing by the desk gesticulating wildly when the kid hollers, "George!" and breaks free of Joe's grasp, darting across the room to him before stopping a few feet short. "Please don't kill me," the kid says, hands held up in pleading surrender.

The other child, slumped in one of the plastic chairs by the counter, is less contrite. "He won’t, will you George? You know if we get in trouble everyone will wonder why and then you'll be in trouble too for letting him get away."

George glares at both kids for a moment before the corners of his mouth start to twitch up. "This never happened," he agrees. "But if either of you try something like that again I'm getting you both the toddler backpacks with leashes on and supergluing them to you."

Both of the kids nod obediently, chorusing, “What never happened?” in a way that suggests this isn’t the first time they’ve been brought in on such a conspiracy.

Joe is just about to slip back out of the door when George finally turns his attention away from the children and beams at Joe. It is not an expression that Joe is at all used to having directed at him. It makes something unfamiliar jump in his stomach as the guy says, "Man, you've saved my life."

"I don’t think _you_ were in danger - shouldn’t you be more concerned about getting your kid back intact?" Joe can’t help but pointing out.

“Oh for sure, you stopped him from getting his head stuck in another garbage can or something-,” the kids interrupt here, one crying out ‘ _hey’_ while the other insists ‘that was _him_ not me’, “But you’re my hero too,” George says, with an exaggerated flutter of his eyelashes. "This isn't the first time they've pulled this shit - they always turn up eventually. It's just that if my misplacing him had been announced it would have got back to my family somehow and then I'd really be getting it in the neck for letting them give me the run around."

Yeah, getting outsmarted by a pair of kids who can't be much older than ten probably wasn't something that anybody wanted to be publicly announcing. “I just walked him in the right direction,” Joe dismisses.

“Yeah, no. I know how annoying Johnny can be so props to you for putting up with him. Just accept the praise okay, you’ve earned it,” George insists, he reaches out and claps Joe on the shoulder and Joe would never admit it but he very nearly startles. Strangers don’t touch him often, Bill reckons it’s because of Joe’s aura of menace, but George doesn’t seem bothered at all as he thanks Joe a final time before gathering up the kids and telling them that, “Oh hell no, you don’t get to see Santa now. Keep dreaming.”

Weird dude.


	3. December 9th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Putting this up a little early so I don't forget about it tomorrow while in exam meltdown.

Joe is growing increasingly concerned for Bill, who has been embraced the mall job with alarming gusto and had yesterday decided that he’d quite like to be Santa Claus himself one day and is now spending every quiet period bothering more experienced members of staff for instructions about what he’d need to do to make that happen. 

The only solace Joe has is that no matter who Bill asks, step one of become a mall Santa appears to be: get another job and work it till retirement age - which means Joe still has plenty of time to talk some sense into Bill. The guy has clearly been licking too many candy canes. 

He’s avoiding Bill when he spots a face he recognises in the crowd – George. Once again, he’s got two kids with him, and once again, they’re different kids from the previous trips - two small girls this time, in mussed pigtails and matching sweaters patterned with snowflakes, one clinging to each of George's hands. Joe means to turn away but George’s eyes meet his and the guy’s whole face lights up as he mouths ‘hi’ through the crowd. 

Bill will never expect to look for Joe voluntarily talking to the people in line, so he makes his way over, trying to look as official as possible so that the other patrons get out of his way until he can reach where George is standing in line. 

“Hey, it’s you again,” George says, “Thanks again for-” he glances down at the children hanging off him, “-Well, y’know." He winks, which Joe can't help but think implies a very different sort of assistance to the sort that Joe had actually provided him with. "We all got through the weekend with our hides intact, our very own Christmas miracle.” 

That, Joe thinks, is overstating it by quite a lot. Arguing it feels like too much effort though, so he just says, “No problem. Just keep a tighter hold on these two.” 

“Can do,” George says, “Whatever it takes to get me on the nice list.” 

It’s not the first time Joe has heard an adult talking about getting on the naughty or nice list, usually in an overly sugary tone that makes it quite clear they don’t actually give a damn what a lowly customer service employee thinks of them and were it January they wouldn’t give a shit. George says it with confidence and conviction though, and just a dash of guileless hope, that Joe can’t help but laugh. 

“I ain’t in charge of any official lists,” he says, “But I’d appreciate it anyway. Normally Bill takes point with the kids but-” 

Apparently, like the devil Bill is summoned by the sound of his name, or maybe he’s just a sharper lookout than Joe had been banking on because at that moment he pushes his way through the crowd, far less efficiently than Joe had, to interrupt. "So Joe... who's your pal here? And since when do you have friends I don't know." 

"George Luz," George introduces, "I think we met briefly last week but I was... distracted." 

"Oh yeah," Bill says, "You're the guy who lost-yOWCH!" here Joe interrupts him with a sharp elbow jab, pretty certain that Bill announcing that George had been misplacing kids in front of the two he has with him now is not a good idea. 

"Yeah, that guy," George says with a laugh, "But fortunately neither of these two are naughty, are you?" 

"No, Georgie," they say, just out of unison, both of them shooting glances in Bill and Joe's direction, as if maybe they think that any other answer would be reported back to Santa. 

“They’re practically saints,” George announces proudly. 

“Well I’ll make sure Santa knows,” Bill says, grinning down at the girls who promptly start to giggle.  

George and the girls were already quite far along in the line when Joe spotted them, and now they’re coming up to the point where they can enter the grotto itself and spend the final ten minutes of their queue time standing around in atmospheric lighting. 

“Well, looks like is me,” George says, “Nice seeing to you.” 

“I assure you he’s a lot hotter to see when he’s not dressed as an elf,” Bill blurts out, and then dodges the elbow Joe throws in the direction of his ribs. 

“Damn…” George says, looking Joe up and down with a smirk. “I don’t know if I could handle that." 

Joe is blessed with a complexion that doesn't force him to suffer the indignity of visible blushes, but he can still feel his cheeks heating up a little. It's irrational - Joe knows he's good looking, and he puts in plenty of hours at the gym, but George is eyeing him like he’s a swimwear model not a college student in a cheap elf costume. 

“See you around,” Joe deflects, and then wants to kick himself because what’s the likelihood of the actually happening? George steps through the entrance to the grotto, ducking to say something to one of the girls, and Joe beats a hasty retreat. 

Not hasty enough to get away from Bill though. 

“Ha! I knew you’d find something you’d like about this job,” Bill says, “I just didn’t think it’d be a customer.” 

"Yeah, about that,” Joe says, “What the fu-" he bites his tongue on the curse, because he’s at work, "-hell was up with you telling him I was hot out of uniform?" 

Bill grins shamelessly. “He was flirting with you, so I figured I'd provide some incentive because any guy who looks at you like that despite your whole 'fuck off' aura and these stupid uniforms is probably somebody who should be encouraged.” 

“No he wasn’t. Why would he be flirting with me? He doesn't even know me.” And it couldn't be anything shallow, because as Bill had pointed out, their uniforms were hideous. 

“You did talk to him last time. Maybe he was charmed by your grouchiness…” Bill is going to find himself strangled with fairy lights if he doesn’t lay off. 

"Even if he was flirting, I don't have a freaking clue where you'd get the impression that I'd want you encouraging it," Joe complains. 

"He made you laugh," Bill says knowingly, and Joe sighs, because that he can't deny. There aren't a lot of people Joe actually finds funny, but George had somehow managed to work his way to a high spot on the list in the space of less than ten minutes of small talk and it kind of makes Joe curious about him. "You gotta get his number next time." That's just getting carried away though. 

"What makes you think there'll be a next time? How many times can one guy visit the mall Santa?" Joe points out. 

"Well, three so far...," Bill points out, then he smirks, "And does that mean you _do_ want his number?" 

If they weren't working Joe would wipe that smug smirk right off of Bill's face. As it is he settles for knocking his hat from his head - it's not very satisfying but nothing about this job is. 


	4. December 13th

It’s been an unseasonably warm December and Joe is tugging the jacket of his costume off over his head, taking advantage of his supervisor’s lunchbreak to bend the uniform rules, when he hears a low whistle. He shakes his head out of the jackets collar, and turns to tell the whistler exactly where they can shove it, but it’s George standing in front of him and smiling innocently as he says, “I hope I’m not catching one of Santa’s elves breaking the rules. I wouldn’t want you to end up on the naughty list.” He’s alone this time.

Joe rolls his eyes, tucking his shirt back in as he says, “Lucky for me, I have an in with the head honcho himself.”

George’s innocent smile morphs into a smirk he says, “Oh yeah? And what would I have to do to get you to put in a good word for me?” his voice dropping into a lower, huskier register.

Before Joe can say anything else he’s hears from the speaker a few yards away the tinkling melody which signals the beginning of his worst nightmare and groans. George raises both eyebrows so Joe explains, “They play this song at least twice an hour, I’ve started hearing it in my dreams.”

George looks perplexed for a moment but then as Mariah Carey’s voice begins to play his face lights up with both recognition and delight. “This song?” he says, rubbing his hands together gleefully.

“Yeah,” Joe answers, then forgets what he was about to say when George takes a deep breath and joins in on the chorus. He starts out quiet-ish but quickly raises to above conversational volume, wiggling his eyebrows and throwing in totally unnecessary jazz hands as he attempts to shimmy to a song that doesn’t suit that sort of movement at all.

Joe figures one chorus will be all there is to it, but apparently not and he can’t resist his whispered “Oh no…”, when George gets to the end of the chorus and shows no sign of stopping. Instead, George leans into Joe’s space as he sings, and Joe catches the faint scent of something spicy, ginger and cinnamon like maybe he’d been baking goddamn Christmas cookies before he’d left the house. He starts singing directly into Joe’s ear, voice dropping to a low croon and Joe can feel the hot rush of George’s breath against his ear, making him fight not to shiver even in the heat of the mall.

George flubs a few lines laughing at himself but makes it all the way to the third chorus before falling apart completely in giggles, pressing his face between Joe’s shoulder and neck as his whole body shakes with laughter. George’s hair looks like it must get its volume from a shit-ton of product, but when it brushes against Joe’s neck and jaw its soft and fluffy, almost tickling him.

Several of the nearest people in line applaud and from over by the ticket desk Bill whoops because apparently he has a death wish. George straightens and bows with a theatrical flourish before laughter overtakes him again and he leans against Joe again while he regains his breath.

“Uh…” Joe says, and George tilts his head to look up at him with flushed cheeks and a triumphant grin.

“I saved you from listening to Mariah Carey, does that get me on the nice list?” he asks cheekily.

Joe considers pointing out that it’s the song not the singer he has an objection to, but he appreciates the effort and it’s hard to be critical when George is looking at him like that. “Pretty sure your spot is guaranteed,” he says instead, and George keeps grinning as he finally straightens up.

“Damn right it is,” George says, snapping his fingers.

Joe is about to ask him how he plans to celebrate this development when he’s interrupted by a teenage girl walking over to them. She’s carrying a little kid with two others trailing behind her, and she punches George in the arm. “ _George!_ You’re really embarrassing. Also I’m supposed to be helping you, not babysitting for you,” she says sounding exasperated.

“I know, I know,” George says, “Just gimme a few minutes and then I’ll cut you lose to go fangirl the counter girls in Sephy-whatsit.”

“It’s Sephora,” the girl mutters, “And they’re _beauty experts_ … and I don’t _fangirl_.”

“Sure, sure, you’re the expert,” George concedes, before turning back to Joe, "Honestly you should count yourself lucky it’s just that one Mariah song that they’re replaying – I've somehow been coerced into allowing the Frozen soundtrack to play on repeat in my car."

The girl rolls her eyes and says, "If by coerced you mean Amy made puppy eyes and said please one time and you caved like bad paper-mâché."

George leans over and tries to ruffle her hair, which results in him getting his hand slapped away. “You never used to pick on me like this,” he complains.

“Yeah, well I used to think a dollar was a good bribe,” the girl says, “Now can I go already?”

“Alright, get,” George says, lifting the smallest child from her arms, “Don’t get lost!”

She looks at him like he’s an idiot, but there’s something fond to her eye-roll as she turns away and George doesn’t look offended by the attitude. “Seriously though,” he says, “Frozen – great on the first few plays but after a dozen times it’s starts to drive you crazy, right?”

“Nope,” Joe says firmly, “Once was enough – and never again.” It had been bad enough the first time, and the subsequent weeks of Bill constantly asking if Joe wanted to build a snowman, and then bursting into song at his refusals.

“That’s fair,” George agrees. “Right, well I should probably get these kids off to see Santa,” George says, and Joe nods his goodbye, because of course.

George isn’t here to see _him_ after all, and Joe has a job to get back to, though he knows that Bill is bound to have an opinion on what just happened and sure enough only minutes later there’s a chummy arm thrown around his shoulders. “You know, if you were smooth then after that song would have totally been the moment to make your move. He really couldn’t have given you a more obvious opening. Now you’re gonna have to hope he kidnaps some more children to justify his flirting.”

“He’s not kidnapping them,” Joe protests. Sure, he’d wondered a little, although it was more ‘what the fuck is with all these kids?’ than outright suspicion of kidnapping, because bringing so many different sets of kids is a bit strange, but all of the kids seem happy and familiar with him – Joe’s current best guess is that he’s working with some kind of youth group. He seems like the sort.

“So you are aware of the flirting?” Bill says, “Because I was starting to worry.”

“I…” Joe had wondered, hoped maybe, but it’s way too soon to rule out the possibility that George is just joking around.

“Get it together, man,” Bill orders, and Joe can’t even bring himself to be annoyed.


	5. December 19th

Joe is on duty on the line, trying to keep things moving smoothly and watching out for cutters when that goddamn Mariah Carey song starts playing for the third time that day. It’s worse than ever because now instead of filling Joe with rage it just reminds him George’s wicked smile and the warmth in his eyes as he’d sung without an ounce of shame despite the stares it had drawn from the passing crowds, and the slight weight of him as he leant on Joe shaking with laughter. He's still dwelling on this thought when George appears, accompanied by only one child this time and he bypasses the line completely, instead skirting around the outside of the fencing until he can lean on the rail just behind Joe’s station - someplace he can stand and Joe can talk to him without him being moved on by the crowds, Joe can’t help but notice. 

“Afternoon Joe,” George says with a smile, “How’s it going?” 

“You know how much I love this job,” Joe says deadpan, confident that even after only a few meetings that George will be able to tell he means the exact opposite. 

Today's child, a hip high slip of a girl with curly pigtails gapes at him and then turns to George with wide eyed awe and says, "You actually know Santa's helpers?!" 

George grins. "Now did you think I was fibbing when I told you I'd make sure Santa heard about it if you didn't put your puzzles away properly?" 

“Noooo…” the girl says with unconvincing innocence. 

Joe pulls a face. "Are you using me to intimidate small children into compliance?" 

George looks offended. "Never!" he declares. "You’re a harmless elf, it's the terrifying omniscience of Santa I'm using for threats." 

Joe isn’t sure what to make of that. George is more elfin than Joe is, with his bright eyes and broad grin, he has a mischievous demeanour that suggests he'd make a perfect archetypal fairytale trickster. Whereas Joe had been told flat out that he wasn't the ideal type of person for this job and he'd only got the role because the mall management company had started recruitment way too late to be picky when they had so many positions to fill. Still, "I'm pretty sure Santa isn't meant to frighten children." 

"Nah, Santa is totes the enforcer type, I mean: _you'd better not shout, you'd better not cry, you'd better not howl I'm telling you why - Santa Claus is coming to town..._ " he croons out the lyrics and apparently the last time wasn’t a fluke, his singing voice isn't half bad. "Tell me that doesn't sound like a kid friendly version of snitches get stitches." 

Joe is pretty damn sure that he’d never have come up with that interpretation before but now he’s heard it, much like George’s singing, it’s going to be stuck in his head. 

“Frank got stitches and he isn’t a snitch or a tell-tale,” the girl says, puzzled and George looks down at her guiltily. 

“No, of course not. Just… uh, it’s just a grownup joke,” he says, then shoots Joe a frustrated look, adding in a mock whisper, “I used to be so good with kids, then I left home and I’ve come back to find they’ve all turned into smartasses.” 

“Lizzie says if you call me a smartass I have to ask you where I learned it from,” the girl chirps and George groans. 

“See that, that right there is what I’m talking about. Kids these days, right?” 

Honestly, the girl with George seems a damn sight more pleasant than most of the kids Joe sees on the job, sass and all, so he says so. 

The girl hadn't looked as much like George as the kids Joe had seen him with on previous visits, but the grin she gets when he says as much is  disarmingly similar to George's, and it prompts Joe to add that he's sure she's on the nice list. Somehow her smile gets wider still, and George's matches it. 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees his supervisor approaching. "The wait time is currently about forty-five minutes," he says, slipping back into the faux-cheery tone he uses on customers. George looks thrown by the wildly off topic response and it's a lie too, anybody who joins the line now will be facing a wait of over an hour, but his supervisor nods approvingly. 

George straightens up from his lean on the fence, and then he seems to also spot that they're being watch, winking and saying, "Right... thanks man. That was definitely the answer to the question I was asking. I guess that means we should get in line now since it's usually longer than that," and Joe wants to tell him not to bother, that he should hang around and talk a while and the queue will die down around noon as kids start prioritizing lunch over Santa, but his supervisor is still watching and as much as he dislikes his job he doesn't want to face disciplinary action. 

George waves and begins herding the kid in the direction of the entrance to the line, but Joe hangs around a little longer, doesn't want his supervisor to realise he was only where he is because of George, until Bill wanders over to relieve him. 

"What're you doing over here?" Bill asks. 

Joe looks over to where George is winding his way through the line and sighs, apparently that's all the answer Bill needs because he sighs too and says,"Goddamnit Joe. You've gotta make a move. Christmas is a week away, you're running out of time." 

The worst part is Joe knows Bill is right. 


	6. December 24th

They're so close now to the end of the holiday season and freedom from stupid costumes, screeching children, and annoying music. Joe should be pleased. He should be delighted. Instead he's just scanning the ever thinning crowds with a wistfulness that embarrasses him but not enough for him to stop it. 

“You know, anybody with any choice about the matter would be home with their families tonight.” 

Joe gestures to the crowd with a pointed eyebrow raise. There might be fewer people than on a usual evening and the flow is certainly slowing down, but the place is hardly empty. "They suggest otherwise." 

Bill looks at him pityingly. “Pretty sure your boy isn't gonna need to do any last minute shopping given how many times he’s been here in the last few weeks.” 

"He's not-" Joe starts to protest, and then just sighs, because he's pretty sure he knows how that line of conversation will go and they both know what he wants but there's nothing he can do about it. There was no reason for Joe to assume that George would be back, he'd already visited an improbable number of times, Joe had just figured he'd get at least one more shot to start something before the season was over. 

It’s not even ten minutes after that conversation when their supervisor comes by and tells them to knock off early, pointing out that there’s unlikely to be any sort of last minute rush on Santa after 8pm on Christmas eve. So they both head back to the staff room and shed the elf costumes for the final time, or in Bill’s case the final time that year at least, since despite Joe’s efforts he’s still committed to returning, and then head back out onto the mall floor to say their goodbyes. 

They make their way through the whole grotto, and only have Frannie the cash desk to say goodbye to before they can finally go home, but when they get out there she’s already talking to somebody, a guy in a hideous holiday sweater, snowman knitted into the back, and not even a kid in sight. Joe is just wondering what kind of weirdo would actually be visiting a mall Santa at such a late time of night when the guy turns around and oh… 

The same sort of weirdo that has already visited five time, each with a different lot of kids. Of course. 

George looks oddly dejected, even when he thought he’d lost a kid he’d seemed more annoyed not afflicted with the aura of misery he has now, and for a moment Joe wonders if it might be best to just let him go about his business undisturbed, but Joe is done working at the mall and once he leaves his chances of ever getting to see George again plummet to nothing, so he calls out, “Hey… back again, Georgie?” tries to make a joke of it and it must work because George looks up, eyes finding Joe right away and the frown melts right off of face. 

“Huh, Bill was right about you,” he says as he looks Joe up and down while walking over, and Bill immediately puffs up even though Joe feels like a joke just went over his head. 

“So, had a last minute realisation you’d forgotten to buy something?” Bill teases, “Or did you just really want to see Santa one last time?” 

“No,” George says, glancing from Bill to Joe with a smile that is much more restrained than his usual grin, “I just… uh… I realised all the times I’d seen you and I don’t think I’ve ever once been the one wish you a Happy Christmas so… well the girl at the counter said you’d already left, but clearly you haven’t so, uh… Merry Christmas?” his smile is a little awkward, and Joe can’t help but notice that nowhere in his explanation did he explain what he was doing at the mall, only what must have motivated him to detour in their direction, and honestly it’s a little unnecessary – Joe is glad to see him, more than glad really and grateful for one last chance to actually ask for his number without freezing up, but it would never have occurred to him be bothered that George didn’t specifically wish him a happy Christmas. 

“Merry Christmas to you too buddy,” Bill says, “I’d chat but I gotta go talk to Fran, so I’ll leave you to it.” It’s not the most subtle manoeuvring Bill has ever attempted, he winks at Joe as he leaves, but George doesn’t seem to notice as Bill leaves them alone to head over to the cash desk. 

"Merry Christmas," Joe agrees, feeling a little lost. He's glad to see George, knows he needs to say something if he doesn't want this to end with George walking away, never to be seen again, but hell if anything other than small talk is coming to mind. George hasn't got any bags with him, so Joe supposes that he and Bill were George's first stop at the mall. "I guess you've got shopping to go get." 

"Huh? No, I got all my gifts sorted online in, like, October," George says, "I'd have to be crazy to actually want to shop in a mall in December." 

And just like that, what Joe had been thinking of as George's biggest flaw disappears. Joe swallows, "If you aren't here for shopping..." Joe doesn't know where George lives but the mall is hardly near any residential areas, it wouldn't make sense for him to drag himself all the way out here without good reason. 

"I just thought I'd say hi," George says, which is completely ridiculous and totally unsubtle, but George is shrugging his shoulders and adding, "I guess now I've said it I should go." 

Bill is gesticulating frantically from over by the counter out of George’s sightline, but it isn’t really necessary because Joe might be slow about warming up to people but he isn’t _stupid_ and he was already regretting letting George walk away the last time. Also, some of Bill’s gestures are really inappropriate and it’s a good thing that there aren’t many customers around to see him – Joe just hopes he’s not standing anywhere that’ll be too obvious on the security cameras. 

"Hold up!" he says, even though George hasn't started going anywhere yet. "I... If we're both headed to the parking lot, we may as well walk together." 

George smiles and waits for him to catch up. Joe has bought himself some time, though he still doesn't know what to do with it. 

It’s unexpectedly chilly as they exit the mall. It’s been a warm winter and Joe has been getting by with a jacket instead of a proper coat, but tonight it’s turned colder and from the way George wraps his arms around himself it seems he’s similarly surprised to find his sweater suddenly insufficient for the weather. 

As they cross the parking lot, Joe blurts out a question that isn't the most important one, but is the one that has been on his mind the longest. "I have to ask, you bringing all those children…" 

“The first three times were one hundred percent legit,” George says quickly. “My mom wanted me to take all my younger siblings, well the ones who were still young enough to care about Santa, but like hell I was supervising all of them at once, they’d run rings around me. I mean, you saw, even splitting them up I still managed to lose one.” 

“ _All_ your…?” Joe says incredulously. “Are you telling me _all_ those kids were your brothers and sisters?” Is George in some creepy religious cult or something? 

“Nah, I’ve only got nine, but the oldest three are too big for Santa. After they’d all come I volunteered to take my cousins as well - I may have had an ulterior motive for that,” he adds with a smirk. "I'd offered to bring a couple of neighbour kids too, but then they caught cold and their parents didn't want them out." 

They're by Joe's car now and Joe is still a little stuck on _only_ nine but with George standing so close he's more interested in that ulterior motive. Honestly he's got no excuse, George hasn't hesitated to let Joe see his interest – all he's waiting on is a sign from Joe. And Joe opens his mouth to finally give George the answer he's waiting on, but is interrupted when something cold and damp lands on his nose, making him flinch from whatever it is. 

He wipes it away, focuses his attention back on George, but George is looking up at the sky, eyes wide and lips parted. "It's _snowing_ ," he says, with quiet wonder. And it is, first a few stray flakes, but then it picks up rapidly, coming down in flurries around him. 

George's lashes flutter as his blinks snowflakes out of his eyes and Joe can’t help but watch the way his tongue darts out to sweep a few flakes from settling on his lip. George is both captivated and captivating. 

Fuck words. Joe never seems to get them right, but he knows what he is good at. He can’t believe he’s about to kiss a guy wearing a light-up holiday sweater but he does it anyway, capturing George's face in one gloved hand and guiding him close. 

Despite the snow George’s mouth is hot against his, still only for a moment before George’s lips pressing back sweetly against his, and Joe can feel the gentle curve of his smile. Joe leans closer, pressing George against the car and then stumbles backwards as the alarm starts blaring and nearly deafens him. 

"Jesus..." he mutters and George laughs. 

"Yeah, and it's nearly time to say happy birthday to the old guy... little guy... is Christmas Jesus a baby or two-thousand years old?" George looks genuinely curious, mouth twisting in thought, but Joe doesn't give a damn about the wordplay or the theology, just kisses him until he breaks away laughing again. “Give me your number before you go?” George asks breathlessly as they separate, already pulling his phone from his pocket. 

“My shift wasn’t scheduled to finish for another hour yet,” Joe says, “So I don’t need to go home for a while. There’s a coffee place about a block from here, good coffee not the cheap chains from the mall, if you wanted to go grab a drink?” 

“I’d love to,” George says, tucking his arm around Joe's and standing close enough that Joe can feel the heat of him through their jackets. 

"It's a date," Joe says, a little redundantly, but fuck if he's risking not giving George a clear answer to all the hints he's been dropping. 

George grins. "I know," he says, leaning in and kissing Joe quick, "Now hurry up and take me to this coffee shop before I freeze to death." 

 


End file.
